To Have and To Hold
by Alley Cat Sunflower
Summary: Five years after Luke's return, an up-and-coming young clergywoman marries a nobleman, a princess, a duke's son, and the Commandant of the Oracle Knights. Among the guests are a fomicry researcher and his adopted son, plus a distinguished cheagle. Follows the reception… and wedding nights. T with M tendencies: not explicit, but extremely suggestive. I do not own Tales or the cover!


"You may kiss!"

Anise's enthusiastic pronouncement rang through the Kimlascan throne room, and the assembled crowd cheered as the two couples happily obeyed. Luke almost fumbled with Tear's veil, and their kiss was swift and light (Tear was blushing furiously). Guy, meanwhile, moved Natalia's much longer veil out of the way smoothly and swept her into a tender, lingering kiss.

Plucking unhappily at her holy garb, and resenting that it covered every inch of her—she was twenty-one years old, and well aware that she was gorgeous, not that anyone could tell under this outfit—Anise wondered whether she'd ever wear a wedding dress as beautiful as those of Natalia or Tear. Sure, the desire for romance had taken a back seat to her ambition for her career, but…

She noticed with a start that everyone was staring at her, some with amused expressions on their faces. "May Lorelei bless this union!" exclaimed Anise hastily, completing the ceremony at last, and the crowd tittered (the King looked disapproving) before rising and cheering once more as both couples walked back down the aisle, followed by their relatives and finally by all those asembled.

Anise watched them all go, smiling despite herself. There was no way she was going to let her jealousy get the better of her on her friends' special day, especially when they all looked so happy together. She merely straightened out her ponytail (pigtails, she had decided, would look unprofessional for her first mission as clergywoman), smiled, and thought of how many points this marriage would earn her with the Order.

The setting sun shed soft golden light through the high windows, and as the crowd filed out neatly after the couples, Mieu hovered by her ear. "Did I do it right, Anise?" he asked, as she turned to face him. He had been the one to present the rings, which had been Luke's idea (as that had been the way he had proposed to Tear).

Honestly, Anise couldn't think of anyone better suited to the task than the bearer of the Sorcerer's Ring—especially as he'd matured a lot within the last several years, and hadn't missed a single step or even squeaked out of turn. "Yeah, Mieu," sighed Anise contentedly, patting him on the head; he beamed at her happily. "You did great."

She turned her attention with some surprise to Florian, who had risen from his seat and now bounced forward with undisguised excitement. "Some wedding, huh?" he asked, grinning excitedly and looking up at her from the bottom of the shallow steps. She supposed he _was _only a child, anyway, even if he did look about her age—but that didn't stop her from thinking, in the early hours of the morning when she was just falling asleep, how many ungodly things she'd like to do to him. "I've never been to one before," he continued, glancing around the grand room.

"I wonder why," responded Anise, giving Jade a scrutinizing glare. The former colonel had adopted him a few years ago, after all, since he certainly spent enough time studying him. (Unfortunately, Florian had inherited most of the social quirks of his adoptive father.) Anyway, according to Luke, Jade had made it very clear that he didn't _do _weddings—and, apparently, the only reason he was attending this one was out of a sense of obligation since they'd saved the world together a couple times. Anise didn't buy _that_ for an instant.

Jade laughed. "I'm not exactly invited to many weddings," was his response as he rose from his seat. Though he'd given up being a military official in favor of full-time fomicry research, his posture was as formal as ever. Anise opened her mouth to provide some snappy retort, but found that she had no good response, and closed it again.

Jade merely smiled at her speechlessness and turned to walk down the aisle alone. Florian may not have been good at showing his emotions, and Jade may have been partially to blame for that—but he knew love when he saw it, even if he didn't care to experience it himself, and Anise's feelings on the matter were certainly clear.

Glancing down the grand stairway towards the entrance hall, decorated luxuriously for the reception, Jade couldn't suppress another smile. Eight years ago, he never would have imagined that he would come to care for others so deeply as to be affected like this by a simple legal union.

He paused, surveying the party below; the two couples seemed to be feeding one another their first bites of wedding cake, surrounded by their throng of well-wishers. From what he could see, Guy and Natalia were very well-behaved—but Luke smeared frosting on Tear's mouth just for the excuse to kiss her. Jade laughed, half-expecting them both to be thrown out of the castle for indecency, but they were quickly forgotten: everyone was focused on the cake, distributed to all.

Jade closed his eyes and leaned on the railing, resolving to stay above it all for awhile longer. Cake had never much appealed to him, after all, even when he was a child—though perhaps that was due to Saphir's insistence that he bake him a birthday cake one year, and he'd made the mistake of trying a bite (but only out of boredom). He hadn't even been able to swallow it, and had wasted no time storming after him and smashing it in his face.

What was worse, Peony had released Dist from jail and assigned him to work with Jade again—and he'd offered to bake him cakes for the last several years. Jade, meanwhile, had no qualms with informing him as to where exactly he would not hesitate to shove it if he did.

"Hey, Jade!" exclaimed Luke suddenly, pulling a laughing Tear up the stairs and surprising him (as much as anyone ever _could_ surprise him). "There you are! We were just going to find you," he added, frowning, but gave Jade no time to explain. "Where's Anise?" he added, glancing around as though she would pop out of nowhere.

"Still in the throne room," replied Jade, raising an eyebrow. "With Florian," he added in a mockingly conspiratorial whisper, when Luke looked confused, and he nodded with an understanding smirk; Tear elbowed him, but Jade could tell she was only restraining her own smile with difficulty.

Jade found with some annoyance that Luke and Tear had each taken one of his hands and were leading him down the stairs to the reception, ignoring his pointed sighs and muttered, halfhearted protests. But, for all his complaining, Jade would put up with almost anything for the sake of peace at his friends' wedding—but he wouldn't be caught dead admitting it.

"Jade!" exclaimed Guy, grinning as he turned around, and Jade politely extended his hand for the groom to shake (knowing congratulations were expected)—but was instead briefly hugged, much to his shock. "I was wondering where you'd run off to!"

"You make it sound like I'm an unruly teenager," Jade sighed, shaking himself back to reality again. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"That's not what you told me," countered Luke, smiling smugly. "You said you were only coming because you were _obliged_. That you didn't ordinarily come to weddings, but you'd make an exception because you traveled with us."

Jade raised his eyebrows coolly. "Obligations aren't always unpleasant."

None of them had anything to say to that—not even Natalia, settled serenely on Guy's arm as though born to be there. Tear merely looked somewhat amusedly up at her husband, and both grooms stood there trying to think of something witty to say and impress their brides.

"Well," sighed Jade eventually, when none of them said anything, "at least your wedding is in the late afternoon. Imagine all those poor couples who are married earlier in the day—"

"They have to wait hours and _hours _for their wedding night," finished Anise in a groan, pulling Florian along behind her (Mieu followed closely), and Jade smiled at her prediction of what he had been going to imply—though of course he would have done so with infinitely more subtle finesse. "Seriously, how do they do that?"

"I don't think that's an appropriate thing for a clergywoman to say!" stuttered Guy after a startled pause, and Luke and Tear nodded fervent agreement, but Natalia looked oddly calm despite her blush. Jade narrowed his eyes at her, but she refused to meet them for longer than a split second. _So the veil was a lie, _he thought with some satisfaction, and recalled with new understanding the depth and intensity of her love for Asch.

"It's true, though," shrugged Anise obstinately. "Now, where's the cake?"

Guy helpfully pointed her in the direction of the cake—by now mostly depleted, held on fancy plates by various courtiers, or the others they had invited (Jade spotted Ginji in the distance, speaking enthusiastically with Noelle). Mieu shot off in that direction enthusiastically; Anise's eyes widened in panic that she wouldn't get a piece, and Florian was pulled along helplessly behind her, though he looked as though he was enjoying the ride.

"How long does the reception go on?" asked Jade quietly, when Guy and Natalia's attention was momentarily redirected to Pere. He didn't have pressing business elsewhere; he was to stay in the castle's guest room tonight, Natalia having refused to let him take a room at the inn—but he didn't feel it was particularly necessary to stand around talking with people he barely knew, simply because they happened to be in the same place at the same time.

"Oh, until everyone leaves," shrugged Luke, and Jade sighed heavily at his response. However much Luke had changed over the years, he was still remarkably clueless about some things.

"Until a little after dusk," clarified Tear, looking reproachfully up at her husband. Their differences in height were less than Guy and Natalia, but they still looked remarkably well together: Jade half-wondered whether his idle teasing about their lovers' quarrels had gotten through to them through subliminal messaging, or whether they had fallen in love entirely of their own accord.

(Or because of the off-track Score, but that was quite another matter.)

"Well then," said Jade after a long and somewhat awkward silence, bowing shortly, "I'll be in the guest room if you need me—but I doubt you will. Give Guy and Natalia my regards, and…" Jade hesitated. Was that too bold a joke—too typical of Anise?

"And?" prompted Tear curiously, raising her eyebrows.

No; it was the perfect opportunity. "And tell them not to be too loud," finished Jade with forced impassivity, turning away before he could see their doubtless shocked reactions—but laughed aloud to himself as he ascended the stairs, and imagined that they would do the same as soon as they got over their shock.

* * *

Luke—urged on by his single glass of golden, honey-sweet, sparkling, dizzying liquid—could barely keep his eyes off Tear.

As the guests departed, and his father and mother discussed legal affairs with his uncle, his thoughts wandered more and more towards how long it would take for him to remove that satin dress, and how the translucent lace that stretched between the rest of her bodice and her neck would feel under his roaming fingers.

Who was he kidding? Natalia and Guy were being the good little nobles they were supposed to be, staying behind to talk to every guest in their new castle, and as they were infinitely more important than the son of a duke and his bride—well, no one was paying attention anyway.

"Let's go," he murmured in her ear, resting his chin on her shoulder; his hands slid around her slender waist from behind, and she shivered pleasantly at his touch.

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly, a tinge of worry hiding deep in her voice. "There are still guests here…"

Luke sighed and glanced around. Florian, Anise, and Mieu had already retired to the guest room to stay with Jade; Aston, Ginji, and Noelle were long gone. Only a few guests whom Luke vaguely knew through his father or uncle remained.

"No one who will miss us," decided Luke. "Besides, it's our wedding night. They said the party would be over at dusk, and the sun went down some time ago." He sighed. "No one will blame us for disappearing," he finished, smiling at her encouragingly and hoping he didn't seem _too _excited.

"Fine," responded Tear, expression softening tenderly, and allowed Luke to take her hand and guide her safely out the door—once he was absolutely _sure_ no one was paying attention. But once they reached the front door of Luke's manor, Tear stopped him gently, tugging on his arm.

"Is the usual procession of maids going to be there?" she asked, badly disguising her anxiety, and Luke chuckled despite himself. Tear hadn't wanted to have a large wedding despite her status as Commandant; she had told him how her legs were trembling so much at being the center of attention that she had barely been able to walk down the aisle—even with Teodoro's arm to steady her. It was plain that the last thing she wanted today was _more_ attention… especially given that everyone knew what they were going to do next.

But she didn't have to worry. "I gave them the night off," whispered Luke, and opened the door; Tear's expression became one of pure relief as no one stood to greet them, and they exchanged a happy grin before walking in.

They hurried along the corridors, her long and elegant dress rustling as they went, and—after taking a moment to pause in the courtyard, admiring the way the full moon shone down on the water around them—arrived at the threshold of Luke's room.

"Here we are," he exclaimed, throwing open the door and flicking on the light with anticipation positively flooding his body, and was met with—silence. "What?" he asked nervously, when Tear said nothing and leaned against the door way.

"…Did anyone clean this room at all? Ever?" asked Tear eventually, frowning around inside—and Luke remembered with a jolt that he had intended to tidy it up earlier that day (having forbidden his maids a long time ago from coming in to do it for him), but had been too preoccupied with telling his mother that _no_, he wasn't going to wear his father's old wedding clothes. Then, he had been busy w—

"W-well," responded Luke hastily, realizing suddenly that she was waiting for an answer. "Sort of?" he finished lamely, after a pause. It had been quite some time since he'd bothered to tidy it up. "The sheets are clean," he added brightly, hoping that would at least count for _something_.

"It doesn't look like you know how to make a bed, but I guess it'll do," laughed Tear, but as she spoke, an idea crossed Luke's mind. A crazy, wonderful, half-baked, taboo idea. But he _had_ to see what she'd think of it. He wouldn't blame her if she were to slap him and walk away, but… well…

It didn't matter; the temptation was too great. "Actually," said Luke, smirking as he took Tear's hand and shut the door again, "I'll have only the best for you. Come on."

He led her back through the corridors, ignoring her frequent and giggling questions as to where exactly they were going—until they stood before the door to his parents' room.

Tear had been there before, and after a short pause while she observed her surroundings, she knew _exactly _what Luke's silent suggestion was. "You aren't serious," she said quietly; it wasn't a question. "You _can't_ be."

"Why not?" asked Luke, turning towards her, but felt himself turning red at her accusatory tone. "They're going to be up all night talking about who's next in line for the throne now, and how many grandchildren they want, and—"

"But what if they come back?" interrupted Tear. "What if—if they walk in on us and—" Tear was absolutely scarlet in the dim lamplight, her gloved hands curled into fists… but she didn't look angry. Just embarrassed.

"They won't," assured Luke. "I know my family. They can talk for hours about nothing—and tonight, they have a _lot_ to talk about, believe me." He hesitated. "Besides, I'm pretty sure Father and Mother know enough about wedding nights to know that they're not welcome in their own house tonight."

"But… but… it's not our bed! How could we—" exclaimed Tear brokenly, plainly running out of excuses as she stared at the floor.

"Well, it's going to be ours _someday_," shrugged Luke. "And it's always better made than mine." He turned away and started pretending to walk back to his room, wondering if she would stop him: her hand reached out and grasped his wrist gently, and he halted triumphantly.

"Wait," she said, and Luke could tell the argument was won already. The instant Tear started to relent, he knew she would go all the way—or at least, that was how their differences had usually been resolved before (the few Luke won, anyway). "We could… I mean…" She trailed off uncertainly.

He played with her hand, easing her silken glove off, and smiled at her as she shivered. "We could what?" he asked. "Time's ticking," he reminded her softly. "We've got to get in, get moving, and get out if we want to pull this off." For emphasis, he tugged off her second glove, and Tear sighed a lingering sigh and rested her bare hands on his chest: his heart skipped a beat.

"All right," she said, unbuttoning his jacket with tantalizing slowness as she gazed into his eyes (his breath caught), "but if we're found out, I'm divorcing you." Luke prayed she was joking; there was a lighthearted note in her voice, but he could never be sure with Tear.

"Deal," he responded immediately, but before he could draw her mouth up and kiss her to seal the bargain, Tear opened the door and stepped swiftly inside. As the door almost closed again, Luke worried for a moment she'd lock him out on their wedding night, but she caught it again before it shut. "Won't you come in?" she asked almost teasingly, peering around the corner.

"How far in?" asked Luke before he could stop himself, leaning against the doorframe, and blushed as her sparkling eyes widened in pleasurable shock. Where had _that _come from?

"All the way," smiled Tear seductively, and Luke grinned as the door swung open to admit him.

* * *

Natalia sighed, closing the castle doors after the last of the guests had finally taken their leave—quite some time after the reception was supposed to have ended. Only Duke Fabre and Susanne remained to straighten out a few lingering issues with her father, and they were speaking in the throne room. Soft silence hung all around them like the garlands of summer flowers strewn around the room.

"Finally," she sighed, leaning against Guy gently; she smiled up at him as he didn't even flinch. How far he'd come in the years she'd known him, from the servant terrified of even the proximity of women to the nobleman—prince consort, now—who was going to share her bed tonight. "I'm _exhausted_."

"I hope that doesn't mean you're just going to go to sleep tonight," responded Guy, sounding as though he was only half joking, and Natalia smiled at his somewhat alarmed expression. It was touching, really, how invested he was in the idea of his wedding night.

"We'll see," she teased, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek; his hand curved around her waist automatically, and—much to her satisfaction—didn't move when she withdrew her lips. "Do you know the way to my room?"

Guy raised his eyebrows. "Do you really expect me to remember my way _anywhere _when you're by my side?" he asked, tracing her jaw gently. "I get so lost in your eyes, I couldn't find my way to the floor."

Natalia couldn't help but blush. Ordinarily, she might be annoyed by such flirtation, but he clearly meant every word—and _that _was what truly got to her. "I'll assume that's a 'no'," she sighed happily. "Come along."

"Yes, Princess," smiled Guy, and she took his hand gently and led him up the flights of stairs to her room. She found herself feeling more like an excited child than the esteemed princess of Kimlasca, and their pace became more and more hurried until finally she threw the door open and they stood together in the first of her chambers.

"You know," laughed Guy, shutting the door and leaning against it casually with a knowing glimmer in his mischievous eyes, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you were looking forward to this."

Natalia removed her false veil and tiara and set them on the table, not without a twinge of guilt. The veil had been necessary for her appearance as a pure and virtuous princess, and it was appropriately symbolic of the fact that she had not yet been with _Guy_, but it also glossed over the single night she'd spent with Asch—the memory of which she wouldn't part with for anything, but which she'd prefer remain a secret.

"Whatever gives you that idea?" smiled Natalia, tearing her eyes away from the veil reluctantly (hoping she didn't look too suspicious) and looking Guy up and down. He looked very well in the formal wear of his native country, not that she would ever actually admit to anything Malkuthian being superior to its Kimlascan equivalent.

"Wishful thinking, I guess," shrugged Guy modestly, unbuttoning his jacket and removing it before tossing it carefully onto her couch. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" Natalia blinked; he had asked the question with a straight face. Was he honestly unaware of what he had just implied?

"Oh, I think it's just you," decided Natalia with a wry grin, removing her gloves and laying them neatly out on the table as well: a slight, lopsided smile appeared on Guy's face at her comment. "Though, maybe you do have a point," she continued, walking over to the door to her bedroom and opening it. "I think it's cooler in here," she added, and Guy stepped obligingly forward with an easy pace.

"With all due respect, Princess, I think you're wrong," sighed Guy as Natalia shut the door behind them. "It's warmer than ever," he added, nestling his face into her neck experimentally, and Natalia gave a happy shiver. "And I think that's _your _fault."

Natalia giggled and kicked off her shoes. "Maybe it's our clothes' fault," she suggested, bright-eyed, as she stood on one hip. "We're wearing far too many for the occasion."

"Oh?" laughed Guy, scooping her up as though she weighed nothing at all—Natalia squealed in surprised joy—and his hands slid deftly beneath her skirt to hold her. "And what do you propose we do about it?" he murmured, as he laid her gently to rest on her bed, her long skirt ruffled up around her thighs.

Natalia smiled up at him as he arched over her. "You tell me," she laughed, raising a foot to his side and tugging off a silken stocking; Guy's attention was momentarily drawn to her equally silken leg, much to her enjoyment. "Actually, showing is better than telling," she decided.

"Show, huh?" asked Guy, sitting back again (kneeling between her legs) and pulling off his own shoes. "As my lady commands," he said, tugging off his shirt so fluidly Natalia almost wondered exactly how much practice he'd had—before she recalled the fear of females he'd only recently overcome. It was impossible that he should have as much experience as she, however little that may have been.

Natalia blinked; there were no coherent thoughts in her head. Luke never had any problem showing off _his _physique, so she'd been able to guess what Asch had looked like even before he'd done the same, so long ago—but Guy was always so careful to appear decent that she'd never anticipated anything like _this_ lay beneath that modest exterior.

"Is this speechlessness a good thing?" wondered Guy softly, leaning over her and caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

"I-it depends on whether you prefer chatty lovers," responded Natalia eventually, pushing him back upright gently and sitting up as she bent an arm behind her in an effort to unbutton the back of her dress: it had taken her lady-in-waiting a good minute or more to ensure all of them were properly fastened.

"May I?" murmured Guy, and even before she nodded her permission, he reached around her tenderly and set to work. Her dress fell forward before too long, as though fainting, and Natalia resisted with difficulty the urge to cover herself, though her skin was not yet fully exposed.

"And is _your _speechlessness a good thing?" prompted Natalia, extricating herself from her skirt and her single remaining stocking, when Guy said nothing; he hadn't been able to take his eyes away from her since the first sign of her dress giving way.

"Nothing I say could do you justice, Natalia," sighed Guy eventually, arching over her once more and bowing his head to kiss her chest—and, as her whole body tingled at his whisper on her skin, she wondered in how many inflections she could make him say her name.

* * *

"We've got to get out of here," panted Tear, lying flat on her back with her heart still racing. Of course, her wedding night had been _almost_ everything she had expected—but she had certainly expected to sleep with her husband in their own bed, and not that of his parents. That part was certainly a surprise.

"We've got to change the sheets first!" exclaimed Luke, who still—somehow—seemed to have an overabundance of energy as he gazed at her fondly. "What, do you think they won't notice just because we won't actually be here anymore? We've got to—"

"Can't the maids do that?" groaned Tear, rolling over to face him.

"And you were so worried about them _greeting_ us," scoffed Luke. "Now you're asking them to clean up after us? Come on." He grinned at her, and Tear smiled, delayed exuberance kicking in at his smile… though that didn't keep her from feeling absolutely exhausted.

"All right, fine," she decided, hopping out of bed and feeling Luke's eyes scorch her up and down. "_Stop_ that," she added, turning around, but Luke made a point of staring at her front too, and Tear rolled her eyes, tugging on her chemise: there was a time and a place for that kind of look, and it certainly wasn't now. (Maybe later tonight, but not now.)

"Aw," whined Luke, but yanked on his pants and dashed out the door to retrieve fresh sheets from the linen closet—fortunately identical to the ones currently on the bed; the Fabres, as Luke had no problem telling Tear, preferred not to waste money on sheets of different patterns.

"Too bad you don't have your maid outfit handy," grinned Luke breathlessly after his return, as they were fitting the new sheet onto the mattress. "You'd fit right in, really. Maybe Natalia was right all those years ago when she said I was taking advantage of one of my servant girls."

"Shut up," smiled Tear, smacking a pillow into her husband's face and momentarily quieting him; he fortunately knew better than to start an all-out pillow fight, and merely continued rearranging the blankets. Before long, they looked good as new; Tear heaved a premature sigh of relief as Luke gathered up all the used bedclothes.

"Make sure you pick up all your clothes!" hissed Luke after the sheets were changed, as he bore the pile of laundry out the door. "And mine, too!" he added over his shoulder hastily; Tear sighed and picked up their clothing, scouring the room twice over for forgotten articles, before switching off the light, tiptoeing out of the room, and closing the door gently.

She and Luke met up again in the courtyard in front of Luke's room, and they stood there, holding hands as they gazed up at the moon high above. Wordlessly, like the way they had undressed one another, and all the time past that (save for a few involuntary utterances)—no sounds were necessary in the comfortable silence of the summer night.

"Tear," murmured Luke, smiling quietly down at her, and she leaned up to meet his lips passionately, hands slipping on his still-slick back. The spark was still there, as bright and strong as ever, and if only she wasn't so _tired—_

"Wanna go again?" asked Luke huskily, when they finally broke away from one another (breaths hot and heavy), and Tear couldn't suppress a smile as she took his hand, led him up the stairs to his own room, and threw herself backward onto his unkempt bed.

* * *

Guy rested his hand on Natalia's quick heartbeat, lying on his side and sighing deeply in contentment, and wondered how exactly he ever could have been afraid of _this_. To look without touching was unthinkable now that he had touched and tasted what could have been his long ago, but in a way, he was glad that he had waited until now.

"Is it cooler now?" joked Natalia, eyes shining in the moonlight streaming through the open window, and Guy smiled at her gently.

"Much," agreed Guy, sliding his foot over to hers: she jumped before tangling their legs together happily, lying next to him with her eyes half-closed like a contented cat. He could almost hear her purring as she slid a hand across the sheets and intertwined her fingers with his.

Guy smiled at his beloved bride, but couldn't suppress a little bit of anxious curiosity towards how exactly she knew so much. A somewhat sheltered princess shouldn't know _that_ much about this sort of situation. Was it possible she'd worn the veil out of a necessity to please her public?

"Something wrong?" asked Natalia, frowning, and squeezed his hand: Guy rested his other hand on top of hers absentmindedly, ashamed at having been caught musing on such subjects.

"Just thinking," he mumbled, closing his eyes.

"About what?" pressed Natalia, slipping gently closer: Guy opened one eye to find her looking worried. "Don't tell me it's about… about how much I know?" she added hesitantly, before he could make up an excuse.

"Yeah," admitted Guy, resigned; secrecy was hardly a good start to a marriage. "But that doesn't mean I have a problem with it," he added tenderly, before she could take his response the wrong way, and scooted over to kiss her slowly once more. That much was, after all, true: whatever she may or may not have done with Asch, the only likely prospect for having gotten to her first—well, all the knowledge she gained from that encounter benefited _him_ in the end, didn't it?

As he pulled away from her lazily, still raising his head above hers, Natalia smiled at him, and there was relief in her every aspect. "I was so worried you would mind," she sighed, wrapping her arms gently around his neck. "I think you can guess about _who_," she added cautiously, and Guy imagined that she was blushing in the shadows. "So I won't say anything more. It's in the past, and it can't happen again." She brought his head down once more and gave him another, swift kiss. "I'm all yours now."

"I won't ask you to compare us," began Guy, and stopped abruptly, lying back on his pillow with a crimson blush. Where, pray tell, was he going with this? Was this his hidden, half-formed jealousy talking, or genuine (and perverted) curiosity?

"Are you talking about—" asked Natalia amusedly, sitting up to look him in the eye.

"Never mind," interrupted Guy quickly. Honestly, what had he wanted her to say? It wasn't as though she hadn't loved Asch as deeply as (he hoped) she loved him, and of course she'd want to defend him… and his—

"Yours is bigger," said Natalia, _almost_ dismissively, and Guy—after his initial, pleased shock—couldn't help but laugh. Princess Natalia, future Queen of Kimlasca, talking so casually about this sort of thing?

"But," she added, lying back down and closing her eyes with a sleepy smile, "don't you _dare_ tell Luke."

* * *

_Well, apparently I really like writing stories about the weddings of Tales characters, but at least you all didn't have to suffer through the ceremony this time._

_Anyway, I've had this in my head for what has to be half a year now, so I'm glad I finally wrote it down!_


End file.
